by Ryan Casey
She held out her hand again.
And again, with some hesitation, Grace took it.
She helped her to her feet. Grace let go of her hand the second she was standing. The pair of them stood there in the corridor, by the huge window.
“I’m guessing jumping’s still off the table?” Grace asked, limping alongside Aoife.
“Unless you want to maim yourself even more. In which case, be my guest. Come on. The stairs are just up here.”
They limped down the corridor. Fully aware the ceiling was collapsing on them. Fully aware the flames were spreading fast.
And fully aware that if they didn’t get out of here quickly, their good luck falling through the fucking ceiling was going to be all for nothing.
Aoife reached the stairs. Limped her way down it, Grace following close behind—
A crash.
The ceiling above, totally caving in.
Hot debris dropping down everywhere.
“The whole building’s coming down.”
Aoife nodded. “Which is why we really need to get the hell out of here.”
She turned. Limped further down the steps. The pain in her leg growing more intense by the second. No idea if she had the strength or the energy to keep going. No fucking clue if she had it in her to get out of this mess.
But she just kept going.
She clambered her way down to the bottom of the stairs.
Went to turn to take the final set of steps.
That’s when she saw the man standing there. Right before her.
She hadn’t seen this bloke before. Didn’t even think there were any left.
But he was standing there, right in their way, blood on his face and a gun in his hand.
“It’s over,” Aoife said. “This place. Everything. It’s over.”
The man shook his head. “My friends. My people. You came here, and you destroyed it. Destroyed everything we had.”
He lifted his pistol.
Walked a few steps closer to Aoife. To Grace.
“You don’t get to walk away,” he said. “You stay here, and you burn. The pair of you, you burn.”
Aoife stepped back a bit.
Heard another crash.
Flames behind her.
Debris blocking the staircase.
She looked around. Saw that man standing there, holding the pistol.
“You don’t get to walk away,” he said. “You don’t get to walk—”
A crash from above.
A huge chunk of wood and furniture falling down, right on top of the man.
Burning furniture.
His neck cracked.
His gun dropped to the floor.
He disappeared, screaming under the flames.
Aoife stood there. Grace by her side. Watched him. Listened to him.
And as much as she hated these people, as much as she despised them… she found herself pitying him.
Because she knew Grace was right now.
Nobody deserved this.
Nobody.
“Come on,” Aoife said, walking on, Grace close by her side. “Let’s… let’s get out of here.”
Grace followed closely.
The pair of them walked out of this burning building and out into the rainy darkness.
They didn’t look back once.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Aoife staggered out of the burning building, Grace by her side, and out into the cold and the dark.
It was raining outside. And it felt such a relief, feeling that rain pour down onto her. Coughing up her lungs, getting rid of all the smoke.
But that cold. That icy cold rain, so fresh against her skin. Soothing, like a balm all over her body.
She felt it enveloping her, and she felt happiness. Total relief, just for a moment.
And then she remembered who was right behind her.
She turned around and looked for Grace.
Something hit her.
Right in an instant.
Like a punch to the gut.
Grace.
Grace was gone.
Aoife stood her ground. Sickliness building inside her. Grace had been right with her. She’d been right beside her when they were leaving the building. Aoife staggered forward for a few seconds, just for some relief and some cool in the rain, and now Grace had disappeared. She was nowhere to be seen.
Two things hit her. First, was Grace okay? She was in a bad way. Maybe she’d collapsed. Maybe she’d got stuck in the building. Maybe Aoife had let her guard drop for a second, and now Grace was dead.
But then there was another feeling, too.
Another sense.
One of unease.
What if Grace was intentionally holding back?
What if she was watching Aoife?
What if she was waiting for the perfect moment to strike?
She looked back at that burning building. At the flames creeping across it. The remains of a building that had stood so proudly for so many years, burning before her eyes.
One thing was for sure.
If Grace was still in there, she was gone.
She looked back and swallowed a lump in her sore, dry throat. Took as deep a breath as she could, her lungs still so sore, every breath so strained. She hated Grace for what she’d done. And she hated herself for what she’d done to Grace and her people, too.
She knew she’d done wrong.
But so too had Grace.
She’d made peace with Grace. That’s what this was, right now. She’d made peace with her. And she wasn’t going to fight her if it came to it. She wasn’t going to continue this cycle of violence. Because she’d seen how far it’d got them both.
She felt guilty for what she’d done.
But she wouldn’t feel guilty for anything else.
She looked at that burning building. And as much as she wanted to go back in there, as much as she wanted to check on Grace, to see if she was okay… she knew there was no use. Not anymore. It was already in flames. And wherever Grace was, if she had walked away, if she was waiting to ambush Aoife… regardless of what she’d decided, Aoife had made her decision now.
Vengeance was futile.
She had to move forward.
She had to learn.
She had to move on.
She did walk back, though. Walked back. Checked the surroundings. Looked all around the outskirts of the building for a trace of Grace. Looked at every entrance for a possible way she could get in.
But the flames were too high. And one thing was for sure. If Grace was still here… well. She wasn’t still here anymore.
But why did Aoife feel so sad about that?
Especially after everything Grace had done?
She looked back at this burning building.
Looked back at it and let her breath go.
Let her tears fall.
And then she turned around.
She had Rex to get to.
She had Rex to find.
And then she and Rex had a new journey to begin. Together.
She walked away. Kept on looking back. Kept on looking for a sign of Grace. Still unable to understand why she felt so bad about this, especially after what Grace had done.
But knowing deep down it’s because she understood.
She understood how much pain hurt.
How much vengeance hurt.
How strong that will for revenge really was.
She understood it.
And she wanted to tell Grace she forgave her for it.
That she was sorry for her part in it, and she forgave her for it.
She walked into the woods. Into the darkness. Into the pouring rain. Closer to where she’d tied Rex up. And a part of her worried about reaching his leash and finding he was gone already. Finding it was too late. Finding she was alone. Totally alone.
She walked further into the darkness when she saw something.
The leash.
Dangling from the tree.
Rex was nowhere in sight.
She walked over to it. Crouched beside it. Got on her knees and cried.
“Please, Rex,” she said. “Please.”
She rubbed her hand against the lead when suddenly, something hit her.
Rex’s collar.
His collar had been unclipped from the lead.
Someone had done this.
She suddenly became aware of a presence right behind her.
Looked around.
Grace stood there, her silhouette illuminated by the moonlight.
Rex stood at her side.
Grace was holding a pistol and pointing it right at Aoife.
“This is where it ends,” she said.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Aoife stared at Grace standing there with the pistol in her hand, pointed right at her.
Rain lashed down from above. The moonlight silhouetted Grace, making her look even more imposing, even more… well, fucking terrifying at this moment. Aoife could see she was weak. She could see her shaking. See her staggering from side to side.
But she was standing. And she had a pistol, and she was pointing it at Aoife.
And somehow, this really felt like the end now.
“Don’t move a muscle,” Grace said. Her voice muffled, clearly because of how swollen and beaten her face was. “You’ve done enough fucking moving.”
Her voice was quivery, too. Aoife hadn’t really heard her like this. And seeing Rex standing there, by her side, wagging his tail… that felt like the ultimate betrayal.
But she was glad he was there, in a way. Rather that than dead at the hands of Grace.
“Grace,” Aoife said. “I came back for you—”
“And more fool you for doing so,” Grace said.
“This doesn’t have to be how it ends. There’s… there’s got to be another way.”
“You just don’t get it, do you? Even after everything. You just don’t get it. You sit there and you beg and you try to tell me there’s another way? Even after what I did to your people? After what I did to… what was he called? Max?”
Aoife’s stomach turned at the mere mention of his name. “Don’t say his name.”
“I enjoyed what I did to him. I enjoyed what I did to all your people. And I’ve enjoyed putting you through hell. Because… because you deserve it. You deserve every ounce of it. For what you did.”
“I know I deserve it!” Aoife shouted. “I think about it every single fucking moment. What I did to you… to your people… irrespective of what you’d done to us, it was wrong, and I’m sorry. But what you did to us was wrong, too. I know it’s not about point scoring… but we’re both in this.”
“And that’s why it has to end like it does,” Grace said.
Aoife opened her mouth. She didn’t know what to say. Not anymore. “You could have killed me.”
“What?”
“So many times. You could have killed me. But you haven’t. You’ve… you’ve told me it’s because you’re making me suffer. But I know, Grace. I know. No suffering is ever enough. Not when you’ve lost people you care about. Lost people you love. And it’ll… it’ll never, ever be enough. And I know something else, too. It won’t bring the ones you love back. I’m sorry, but it won’t. But you’re putting yourself through this. You’re keeping me alive because you don’t want to let go. But we can, Grace. We… we can.”
Grace stood there, pistol still pointed at Aoife. Shaking in her hand. “I know… I know what my people did was wrong. I know what Christopher did was wrong. But you took away our chance—”
“And I’m sorry for it!” Aoife shouted. Her voice echoing right through the dark woods, the rain lashing down, drenching her.
She stood up. Walked over towards Grace. Not caring anymore. Not giving a shit what it meant for her.
Just knowing it was what she had to do.
All she could do.
“Not another muscle,” Grace said.
But Aoife wasn’t listening.
“I told you,” Grace said. “Not another muscle.”
“I don’t think you’ll kill me,” Aoife said.
Grace shook her pistol. “Want a fucking bet?”
“I don’t think you’ll kill me because I think… I think you see what I’m saying is right. I think you see it too. Just like I do. You won’t kill me because… because you know as long as I’m alive, your life still has a purpose. Same reason I… I can’t kill you. Because as long as I’m alive, and as long as you’re alive… we don’t have nothing left. Without each other… we’ve nothing left to be angry about. And nothing left to live for. And the last thing that binds us to the people we lost is gone completely.”
Grace held her pistol right at Aoife. Shaking. Blood trickling down from her bloodied, battered, swollen eyes. “You’re wrong,” she said.
“Maybe so,” Aoife said. “But I… As much as I hate you for what you’ve done. As much as I want you dead for what you took from me. From the lives you took from so many people… I won’t fight. Because the cycle has to stop somewhere. And it—it stops with me. And if killing me is what you do, then go ahead and fucking do it. But I won’t fight anymore. I’ll be the one to end this.”
Aoife stood there. Totally still. Adrenaline surging, body shaking all over.
Grace staring back into her eyes.
And then Grace stepped forward.
Pushed the pistol right to her forehead.
“This ends with you fighting. This ends with you begging.”
Aoife shook her head. “No, Grace. No. That’s not how it—”
A crack across her face from the pistol.
Rex barking.
Aoife turned, looked back at Grace.
Another smack.
Right across her face.
Knocking her to the ground.
Grace grabbed her hair. Yanked it so hard she swore she felt a whole clump come out.
So hard that she was looking up into Grace’s eyes again.
“You will beg. You owe me that much. You will beg.”
Aoife shook her head. “I won’t beg. And I won’t fight. Whatever happens here, happens. But my fight is over.”
Grace smacked her across the side of the face again. “I loved killing that bastard, Max.”
Aoife felt the pain in her stomach.
She saw him, lying there on the ground.
Heard his cry.
“I saw him shit himself at the end,” Grace said. “Saw him shit himself and saw him piss himself.”
Aoife shook her head. Tried to push the thoughts away.
“I heard him beg for someone, too. In his last breath. Kathryn, I think. Kathryn. And David. And you.”
It was then that Aoife flipped.
She jumped up.
Punched the pistol from Grace’s hand.
Swung her over.
Cracked it against the side of her face, again and again, and again.
And then she leaned over and buried it against Grace’s forehead.
“Go on,” Grace spat. “Go on then. Do it. Kill me. Do it.”
And Aoife wanted to.
She wanted to empty that trigger.
She wanted to bury the bullets into her skull for what she’d done.
“Do it!” Grace screamed.
And it hit Aoife at that moment.
The desperation in Grace’s voice.
It came together.
“You want me to kill you, don’t you?”
“Just do it!”
“You want me to kill you because you feel guilt. You feel shame. For what you’ve done. You’ve… you’ve already put me through hell. And now you want me to make you suffer. Because you’re ashamed.”
Grace didn’t say anything else.
She just cried.
“I just… I just want them back. I’m… I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I want them back. Kill me. Please. Kill me.”
Aoife sat there, over Grace. Rex barking by their side.
And as the
rain lashed down on them, she did the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.
She tossed the pistol to one side.
Looked down into Grace’s eyes.
“I won’t kill you,” Aoife said. “There’s been enough killing already. From both of us.”
She got up off Grace, confident she was weak enough to stay down now.
Walked over to Rex.
Took deep breaths, right into her stomach.
Walked away from Grace, towards the darkness of the trees.
Wanting to turn back.
Wanting to make Grace pay for what she’d done.
But knowing she couldn’t.
Knowing it was the worst thing she could do.
She looked down at Rex as Grace wailed behind her, smiled a tearful smile, then took a deep breath.
“Come on, Rex. Let’s get…”
The sound of someone standing.
Rushing towards her.
She turned around.
Saw Grace standing there, pistol pointed at her again.
“Grace...”
She grabbed the blade from her side.
And before Grace was upon her, she held it up and buried it into her chest.
Grace fell onto her, spluttering.
She fell forward, the pistol falling from her hand.
She fell onto Aoife, and Aoife felt her world open up beneath her.
Because she hadn’t wanted to do this.
She didn’t want it to end like this.
But she’d had to.
She’d had no other choice.
Grace staggered to her knees. And Aoife helped her to her knees. Choking blood. Struggling. Falling down.
But not fighting anymore.
Not kicking up any kind of fuss.
At peace.
Aoife lay her down on the forest floor. Lay her down and looked down into those green eyes. Those eyes didn’t look up at her with fear anymore. They didn’t look up at her in pain.
They looked up at her with the innocence of a child.
Aoife stroked her head gently.
Softly.
Like she was stroking a baby’s head.
“It’s okay. I’m sorry. It’s okay now.”
She held her hand.
Stroked her head.
Rain lashing down.
Grace staring up at her, eyes not wavering from her.
“I’m… sorry. I’m… sorry.”
Aoife felt resistance.
She felt reluctance.
